Parasite
by C. Hawthorne
Summary: Everyone's infected now — everyone but Ichigo. Sapped of their strength, happiness, and being, all of his friends have become mindless hosts. The bane spreads quickly, and time to stop it dwindles even faster.
1. S k i n

**Author's Note: This was a plot bunny that bounced around in my head when I was on the phone with fellow IchiRuki fan seccaberry, who thought it'd be a good idea. So now, at 2:03 AM, I am freeing the plot bunny (I named her Waverly) so she may live within the lovely pages of FF. I'm not sure if the title will keep, or if this'll evolve past a one-shot at all. I guess we will just have to wait and see, kupo (Final Fantasy FTW.) My inspiration for this chapter? Koyoi, Tsuki Wa Miesu Tomo by Porno Graffiti. I hope you know that this is the theme song for Fade to Black, the IchiRuki movie that hits Japanese cinemas 12/13!**

Prologue: S k i n

The sun shined faintly behind the hazy cover of clouds on an otherwise unremarkable Wednesday morning, bringing out tawny colors in the amber eyes of Kurosaki Ichigo. He stood in the school courtyard cutting PE class for two reasons: A, it was his last period of the day, and B, it was fucking annoying. Running, though he did it a lot when in soul form, had never been his forte. Neither was baseball, the current unit. There was only one reason for detesting this: standing in line with Kuchiki Rukia.

Not only was she brusque to the point of insensitivity, but she put a damper on his general mood with her exceptional knowledge about… everything. The girl was a walking encyclopedia… a _mini _walking encyclopedia with a presumptuous voice.

Today Rukia had come down with a cold. Ichigo had spent the first twenty minutes of his school day wondering how the hell a dead girl got sick. Weren't all her cells vaporized like, 150 years ago? And yet she had been cowering under her blanket in Yuzu and Karin's room, hair a mess, nose pink. It baffled not only his mind but his body as well, because it felt odd walking to school without Rukia. There was no one to argue with, save the people who still had problems with his electric-orange hair.

Hearing the distant sounds of the dismissal bell, Ichigo strode down the hill to Miesu Street, a walkway that led indirectly to the clinic. He didn't usually take this road, but felt inclined to because with time, there was room to think, and this route usually took about ten minutes more than cutting across the main intersection.

Lately, his mind had been clouded over with… strange thoughts. Not thoughts, really… more like dreams… recurring dreams. They weren't profane but they did disturb him on a powerful psychological level, how vividly he remembered them, and more importantly the girl in them… her, Rukia. The mini encyclopedia. The little brat. It had felt freaky to wake up covered in sweat about a dream that unremarkable.

It started out with Ichigo standing in a dark cornfield, husks standing almost as tall as he. The sky was an India-ink with blue bursts like bizarre, many-lipped flowers. It was silent for a while, and Ichigo was in his Shinigami garb. But then suddenly there was a rush of cool air, and a sweet smell that also reminded him of chemicals. Then alleviating the sky was a ghostly Rukia with skin bleached by the moonlight, eyes deep blue. She glided out of sight and the dream ended there.

The dream had always seemed to stress him out. The first time it had happened, Rukia had been the one to ask why he had been sweating. He hadn't replied.

Now, as he reached home, it felt far too soon. But the sun was getting lower in the sky, and he frowned. Right now, Isshin was working and the twins were at school, leaving him with Rukia. Well, it couldn't be helped – he'd probably sit around and do homework while she watched one of her dumb soaps.

The front door stood ajar. Isshin was a retard, what if someone decided to steal all the Novocain and lobotomize the whole town? Ichigo sighed and closed it behind him, revealing the empty but immaculate kitchen. A note waited on the beech wood table:

_Onii-chan,_

_I made pudding for you! It's in the fridge._

_Love,  
Yuzu_

Pudding? Well, that was a change of pace. Lately Yuzu had been obsessive over donburi, but food didn't matter very much now. Ichigo walked down the long, somewhat narrow hallway and climbed the stairs. His room was the first on the left, between the bathroom and guest room. He slid it open noiselessly.

Ichigo made an uncharacteristic shriek.

In the middle of the room was Rukia… and… her hands were bent flipside to the back of her bright pink, bunny adorned bra, fastening it on. Not to mention the scanty lace underwear on her behind. Heat ripped through his face and the inside of his nose smoldered.

"KUCHIKI!" he bellowed, and when she turned slightly he slammed his hands over the entire top half of his visage. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Ichigo, what's wrong? No one was even here," she pointed out, sounded incredibly nonchalant as Ichigo shook his head in disbelief.

"_I_ was, damn you! What were you doing IN MY ROOM!?" he felt his fingers getting moist and sweaty, having been over his eyes for so long. "ANSWER ME, RUKIA!"

"Your sisters' room was too hot, so I came in here. I knew you'd be home soon, so I was –"

"GAH!" Ichigo turned in the opposite direction and removed his hands. "JUST PLEASE PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!" he slammed the door without hesitation, standing in the hallway whose air was a lot heavier than before. His body went slack and he slipped down the wall, hands grasping his head as tight as a vice. He had to rid himself of that image. It could NOT be there!!! And yet it kept repeating – her soft, milky skin and the dazzling pink underwear and her curves and her –

"Ichigo," she said enigmatically.

Without looking up, he moaned lowly. "Rukia… put some clothes on…"

She sounded confused. "But I _do _have clothes on."

His brain reacted a little slowly, but the tight fingers released his head and he looked up. Indeed, she had donned long jeans and a baggy T- shirt that covered any of the curvy physique he had seen. "…All right then…" that was good enough.

But her face. She looked humiliated, her face a deep crimson. "I… I'm sorry about that. I didn't think you'd be home yet." Her beryl eyes wandered off to the side, misty and somewhat dark. Some coils of guilt sprung up somewhere deep in Ichigo, but his stubbornness stopped him from expressing that.

"Shit happens," he muttered, rising to his feet and nudging his bedroom door open. But then something tied together, and he turned back to Rukia. "Why are you in my clothes?"

She blinked spastically. "…They were closest to me when you went running out," she explained softly, her voice a tone he hadn't heard for a while. The last time he'd heard it was when he'd said he was going off to save Inoue, her eyes the same hazy shade.

"Oh," he said blankly.

"Yes," Rukia muttered.

A few moments passed before he pulled his chair out from under the desk and sat down at it with his Algebra paper, tapping the pencil idly against the wood. "…Proportions," he concluded quietly, writing it in on the line.

Rukia's sigh echoed. "I'm going back to your sisters' room," she said almost silently, and by the time he turned to say 'okay' she was gone.

**Any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated… and if anyone can write lemon please let me know, because I need a scene of it later in this story (don't ask, just answer), and I'm not good at writing it myself. I'll credit you… well, anyway, I'm off to publish it!**


	2. D i s c o v e r y

* * *

Ichigo spent the next day thinking.

Rukia had been ignoring him since first period, and even then, she had just asked for a pencil. He didn't know why it irked him so, and that was getting to him. But he would get through the rest of the day, jaw locked, and go home, ignoring her back the whole time.

Luckily, Orihime was making conversation. "So, what are you doing this weekend, Kurosaki-kun?"

He shrugged. "I've got to study, Inoue. So do you."

Her soft eyes were eclipsed with worry. "What's wrong, Kurosaki-kun?"

_You don't have to say Kurosaki-kun every fifteen seconds, smart. Call me Ichigo, like she does. _But as the face shot across his head, the one with the haunting violet eyes, Ichigo frowned more deeply. "I'm not doing anything, Inoue. What did you have in mind?" he didn't understand why he was reacting like this. He had no interest in Orihime, persay, but they were friends...

A torpedo of red shot across her cheeks. "U-uhm, Kurosaki-kun, I didn't really think—" and then, over her words, the bell rang. She blinked. "W-well, I'll talk with you later, 'kay?"

"All right," Ichigo said, picking up his bag and sliding it onto his shoulder. As his eyes made their way to the door he caught Rukia, and a pang of... a simple pang rushed through his chest. He and Rukia were fighting. It happened often, but never... never quite like this.

She picked up her own things and left the room, graceful and elfin as ever.

Ichigo stood dumbly on the spot, the afternoon sun radiating off his hair, and he sighed laboriously. Maybe another walk would clear his head.

When he got outside, the familiar woodsy smell of trees lifted his spirits a little. They would squabble a little tonight, and she would forgive him for whatever he'd done this time. _Yeah, _Ichigo thought, _that's the way it'll be, I know it._

As he made his way down the hill, the sun was starting to set, which only made him feel worse. The end of another day. Night didn't usually threaten Ichigo—_nothing_ scared Ichigo— but tonight, his heart was heavy. What had he done to piss her off so much? She'd never downright _ignored _him before. Most days, she would make fun of something he said, laugh along with everyone else, and be a little rude to him while they were eating, but be cordial for the rest of the day. Those days, he was comfortable. There was normalcy. Now, everything was just... wrong.

Tatsuki caught up to him, since she lived nearby. "Hey, Ichigo," she said, her maroon eyes calm and at ease. There was no one ignoring her today.

"Hey," he said, trying to look unencumbered.

She saw right through it. "What's eating you?"

The tall man shook his head, cheeks tightly puckered with defiance. "No, nothing. I wouldn't tell you last time, and I won't tell you now."

Her eyes tightened. "This again? Who's been taken now, huh?" her tone dripped with poison, and he remembered the last time he had done this to her—and the result—his face dripping with blood, hair sprinkled with pieces of broken glass.

Ichigo swallowed. "No one's been taken." But when he said it, he resented it automatically. It was sort of like Rukia's spirit had been taken away. "Everyone's fine."

"Everyone but you. Come on, Ichigo, don't be such a dick." Tatsuki jammed her hands in her jacket pockets and frowned at him more intensely. "Don't even try to do this again. It annoys me."

"Fine. Rukia's being a bitch." He could think of a few better words to describe it, but he couldn't say those things to Tatsuki. She didn't have the right personality.

A raven brow went up. "So what? I don't see what the big deal is, anyway. She's a girl, like me. We're all bitches." She bucked her jaw up just like his, the perfect poker face. She turned her head toward the horizon. "I'm going home, Ichigo."

"Bye, then," he said, unaffected. Tatsuki never really understood anything that went on in his world... and Rukia's. "See you Monday." After a moment of watching her leave, he went for his own house.

His father was there, chatting animatedly to Yuzu and a characteristically stoic Karin, who was reading. Rukia sat at the table as well, writing hastily in old Japanese on a piece of lined paper. So quickly... no human being could think that fast. It worried him a little.

"Rukia, you okay?" he asked.

"I am fine," she replied, her tone the same as it normally was when he asked. Ichigo tore himself away and got a bowl of noodles from the pan, sitting down between his sisters with Rukia opposite him. The swimming bowl of grains couldn't keep his attention, but as he watched Rukia, she didn't ask, 'what are you looking at?' as she usually did. She kept writing as if he weren't staring at her, at the same breakneck speed.

He took a bite, but found his dinner starchy and uninviting. He pushed it away and got up. "'Night," he said.

Without meeting his eyes as usual, Rukia stood up without a word. She followed him woodenly until they reached his room, and when he collapsed on his bed, she just stood there.

He frowned. "Rukia, aren't you going to get in the closet?"

"Why would I get into a closet, Kurosaki Ichigo?" she asked, her voice as emotionless as Byakuya's. Maybe even worse. Ichigo looked at her for awhile, his mind abuzz and afraid.

"You always sleep in the closet."

"I'm afraid you are wrong. I will not sleep in this closet."

"Rukia, stop it. You sound like an idiot." His voice was rising, but in panic. She didn't sound mocking, contradictory... she sounded as if she were stating a mere fact.

She didn't appear to take any offense from the comment. "I am not going to argue with you, child. You will sleep now."

"No, I won't! You're acting like a... like a... Kuchiki!" he said, unable to think of a better word for her attitude.

"Kuchiki," she repeated. "Kuchiki Rukia."

Ichigo's frown gave way to a face of worry, of panic. "Rukia, it's me. Ichigo. What the hell are you doing?"

She still looked macabre, unearthly. "If you are not going to use that bed, vacate it. I need sleep to renew my energy."

Ichigo felt a low growl escape through his teeth. "What the fuck are you doing?! I—Rukia!"

Her little hands tightened at her sides. "Listen to me, or you will pay for your actions." As she spoke, the reiatsu around her heightened at an alarming rate. But it didn't even feel like hers. Ichigo fought the urge to pin her to the ground and punch her, snap her out of this. But he was thinking fast, weighing his options.

He nodded. "Okay," and left the room.

_God damn. The one time I need this old perv, and he isn't answering! _Ichigo let out an exasperated moan as he pounded for the umpteenth time on Urahara's door, his panic going through the roof as he remembered Rukia's dull, vacant eyes, the blisteringly cold rain pelting the back of his neck.

To both his relief and anger, Urahara slipped the door open a fraction of an inch.

"Ichigo, hey there. What's this about?"

"I need to talk to you, now," Ichigo said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and feeling the water squelch around in his socks. "Look, I don't have time for you to be an arrogant asswipe today. I've got a real problem, let me in!"

Urahara blinked, and moved the door to let the sopping wet Kurosaki into the storefront. Water dripped on the tatami.

Ichigo couldn't be bothered. "Look, I've got a real problem, Urahara!"

The blonde had his fan back in place. "I've probably got a solution, if it has anything to do with the Soul Society."

"It has to do with Rukia," Ichigo said, in a rush to get everything on the table. "She's been acting really... dead!"

"Kuchiki-san is dead."

"That's not what I meant! She's not even acting like herself! She doesn't remember me, and she's being a bitch!" Ichigo sat down on the floor with a grumpy sigh, as Urahara tapped his chin for input.

"Well," he said as Tessai poured tea, "My sources tell me—"

"You mean Yoruichi," Ichigo cut across.

"Yeah. Yoruichi tells me that Captain Hitsugaya fell ill a few days ago." His tone was inconsequential, and he took a sip.

"So!?" Ichigo huffed.

"What's got your underwear in a knot? Your girlfriend mad at ya?" Jinta said, appearing out of nowhere.

"Shut up, numb nuts!" Ichigo bellowed. He wasn't in the mood for this right now, especially when Rukia was acting so... unlike Rukia. He turned back to the lazy shopkeeper, who was fanning himself. "This doesn't have anything to do with the last time Rukia's memories were erased?"

"Not as far as I know. You only just told me."

"All right, all right, so what's happening to Toshiro?"

Urahara thought that over. "I got a call a few days ago that there was a disturbance in spirit particles near the Tenth Squad office a few days ago. Captain Hitsugaya was sick for a while, and now he claims not to know any of them, and he's in a foul mood. This ring any bells?"

_Rukia's cold... _"Yeah, it does." Ichigo sighed and looked at the carpet, on which there was a large stain resembling an anvil. He felt relieved that someone else had the problem—that way, there was some reassurance that Rukia was fixable. "How'd they get him back to normal?"

"They didn't. He's been home for the past few days, and they say he's just been eating and sleeping, but he's been getting gradually weaker."

Ichigo felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Rukia had been through so many reconstructions of her spirit power already—and now that she had no idea who she was... "What do you want me to do?" he asked dryly.

Urahara looked as if he was going to shrug, but hesitated. "Just make sure she doesn't do anything that gets out of hand. Captain Hitsugaya's proven harmless, and the Department of Research and Development is studying him closely."

"So you've got no way to make them stronger." Ichigo said it as a statement rather than a question.

"I've really got no clue what's going on, Ichigo. Just let me know if you notice anything odd, all right?"

"Odd?! She's not even Rukia."

"I know. But keep an eye on her."

Ichigo scoffed. "Fine," he said, getting shakily to his feet. Urahara's face grew blurrier in his mind as he remembered Rukia's, the emotionless stare, the one that had no ties to him, Ichigo... her...

But what _was _he to her?

His mind was full of bad possibilities. Rukia and Hitsugaya were losing their powers, slowly... but what would happen when they disappeared completely? Would they still be the same ghastly, blank people? A world without Rukia... he'd never thought about it.

And as he walked home, it realized that it would damn near kill him.


End file.
